


"Would you still love me?" I ask, and you simply smile.

by TheDeadAreWalking



Category: Jacksepticeye (RPF), Markiplier (RPF)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeadAreWalking/pseuds/TheDeadAreWalking
Summary: So many questions on a night like tonight





	"Would you still love me?" I ask, and you simply smile.

**Author's Note:**

> So Wilford killed Septiplier but he didn't kill me so who's the real winner.

If we were not human, but instead something greater, something beyond ourselves. Could we be as we are? We would be all powerful and ruling. No law of man to bind us. No man to stop us. If we become both the unmovable object and unstoppable force. Could we be as we are? Would you still want to be with me? "Would you become human again for me?"

If I were a planet and you, my love, were the sun, would you force me to orbit you? Would you inevitably destroy me one day in your gravitational pull? Even go against physics and keep me in orbit forever? We could just stay, stuck in an endless dance. It would be beautiful but it might hurt us. "Would you find a middle ground for me?"

If I were worthless, at least to myself, would find me something to hold onto? You could be my something, if you tried. Would you try, for me? Would you come home, finding me crying and somehow still love me? I find that hard to believe. That's weakness. No one would want to deal with that every day. "Would you deal with my lowest lows?"

Do you remember the night we met? I doubt it, I don't hold it against you, you can barely remember your mother's maiden name sometimes. I understand, it's how you work. We all have small corks about us. But I remember, I'm not talking about the first time we talked, I mean the first time we met. It was in that dumb hotel and we both realized we were staying in the same one. Sorta romantic, in a way. I remember how sweaty and nervous I was. I was worried I wouldn't live up to the me everyone knew. It was fine, though, in the end. "Would you still have found a way if we hadn't met that night?"

If I had never cleared the distance of the ocean for you. If I had stayed in my home, where I was raised and grew up. If I never came to live with you, share every memory with you but still loved you just the same. "Would I have been enough for you?"

If I screamed at you. Told you I hated everything about you, from your old red hair to your senses of pride. I come home one night, drunk and mad. I'm never drunk or mad but if I was and I was saying the most horrible things I could think of. Things that make us both cry. "Would you forgive me in the morning?"

If I died. Today, right here in bed with you. Me, on the left side and you, on the right. And I just didn't wake up. I just stayed right where I was and you mourned and felt sad. But you would live on without me. You would live with less me and a little less of yourself but you would live. You know how I feel about it. I want you to move on. "Would you be able to move past me, if need be?"

If I could take a moment to be less serious. I'd like to address something else. I'm a mess. I'm not being self-degrading right now. I'm literally a slob to live with. I try not to be but it always happens. So, "Would you clean up my messes?"

All these thought and worries run around my head sometimes. These and one hundred more nonsensical worries. But right now you're holding me and whispering things I can't hear. I'm crying and you're telling me it's going to be fine. I believe you. Things do get better but right now I just need to cry. You actually used my real name just now, Sean. I must be crying for quiet some time for you to actually use that name. I take a deep breath and gather some thoughts. I have a million questions I that need answering, but not a single one leaves my mouth. Instead, they all merge into one simple question.

"Would you still love me?" I ask, and you simply smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly Wilford is the winner because I'd fuck that bubblegum bitch.


End file.
